forget the horror here
by shadowinthedark13
Summary: This is not the death of a weapon handled by a superior being, by a god. This is the death of a scentless flower.


**forget the horror here**

* * *

Black Star has a fever, even if he doesn't think he does. _I'm always hot, Tsubaki, _he'd laughed, but his face was flushed and sweat was beading at his hairline.

The air outside is thick and humid, and Tsubaki can smell a storm in the air. Summer colds were the only colds Black Star ever really caught, unlike Soul who caught colds during each season.

It's not that she minds taking care of Black Star, of course, but with planning Soul's surprise party, and dealing with the remedial lessons from the academy, she's been pretty swamped. And when he refuses to relax or lie down or take the medicine she gets for him, she gets even more frantic and annoyed.

She's thinking about what he'll be doing when she get home when the man steps out from around the corner, his staff already swinging toward her face.

* * *

"You wanna work for that little Star Clan kid? Then fine, might as well look the part."

Sweat from the man's forehead drips onto her own face, and Tsubaki is reminded again of how stifling the room is, how hot. She can barely breathe and her tongue is thick and dry in her mouth from the drugs they'd given her. She has vague memories of getting hit in the face with his staff, and the way her nose aches every time she inhales, she knows it's broken. But everything beyond that, getting here, or who these men are, (though she supposes they're some enemies of the Star Clan) is lost to her.

The man leans down, "You know what that kid's family did? His _clan?"_

Tsubaki knows, has read about the infamous Star Clan in history books, had her father teach her about them the last time she and Black Star had gone to Japan. She knows they were something not entirely human in the end, and that they have done incredibly horrible things for money. She knows Black Star holds none of their beliefs or values and that he is a _good_ man, perhaps not the best, but a lot better than most.

So, she chooses not to answer, because she knows whatever her answer is, these men have their minds set.

"They murdered _my_ family; they murdered _my_ clan for _cash._ You think that's right? You think what you and that fuckin' freak do is _right?"_

_Yes,_ she wants to snap, wants to cut this man to pieces. They are meisters and weapons of Shibusen, they are heroes and victors and who does this man think he is? Instead, she smirks, knowing it probably looks like a grimace, and it hurts her nose.

"Of course you do. You weapons and meisters are all the same, and as soon as we're done here, we're gon' head over to that cute little house of yours and tear your friend into pieces."

Tsubaki spits in the man's face.

His face twists into a snarl, and he backhands her hard enough that her teeth rattle and she bites her tongue. The man yells something over his shoulder, and then rough, scarred hands tug at her top until it's ripped and her right breast is showing. Panic consumes her, and for the first time since she'd been taken, Tsubaki is truly afraid.

She attempts to free herself from the strangely marked cuffs around her wrists and ankles, but nothing works, and soon it doesn't matter. The other man working near the fire pulls something out of the furnace, gleaming bright and red hot. _A star,_ she thinks dumbly, watching as he grabs a bucket of water from beside him and walks toward her. _A star._

_Black Star,_ she thinks, or might say, with how the man above her is laughing, pressing her shoulders into the hard wooden table they'd bound her to. "Don't worry, we'll make sure 'ya see him soon," he laughs.

With a flick of the wrist, the bucket of water splashes across her torso, leaving her hotter than she was before. And, before she has a chance to think, the hot iron is pressed above her breast, and it _burns._

There aren't really words to explain how much pain it is. Tsubaki thinks she screams, but she can't hear it over the sizzling of her skin. Blood fills her mouth from where she'd bitten her tongue—no, _through_ her tongue—

"There we go," the man holding her down laughs and Tsubaki knows no more.

* * *

The first time she wakes up, there is shuffling around, muted voices. There is pain and the feeling of stickiness.

And then there is nothing.

* * *

She wakes four more times, though nothing really changes except maybe the pain. It comes and goes in spurts, sometimes so absolutely unbearable that Tsubaki just _screams _and screams until she can't anymore, and then she thinks she cries, but she can't tell if it's tears or sweat dripping down her face.

The heat has not gotten any better either. In fact, it seems that although the men who had done this to her were gone, they'd left the furnace burning, and moved the table she was laid out on closer.

Tsubaki doesn't know how many days have passed, and she can tell that the brand (the ugly, horrible brand) is infected, as well as the lacerations she'd gotten trying to escape her captors. She feels weak and faint, and her mouth is dry as a bone.

She thinks a lot during this time, during the periods where she is awake and the pain isn't too much. She thinks that she's probably missing Soul's birthday party she'd helped Maka plan, and she's missing school. She thinks about how she had bought that really pretty sleeveless dress for the upcoming girl's night out, and how she won't be able to wear it now. She thinks about telling Black Star that she wanted to get a tattoo like his on her shoulder and how happy he'd seemed. _We'll make a better Star Clan, you and me._

She wonders what Black Star will think about her brand. Mostly, though, she wonders where he is.

* * *

She is dying.

Tsubaki knows this for certain. The fire had dwindled down to nothing, not even burning embers, but she is still so hot, and puss leaks from her brand, which is discoloured and wrong looking. She's seen other brands, other burns, and never have they looked like this, and she's thirsty and starving.

_And it might be easier,_ she thinks, eyes roving around the room slowly, taking in every possible escape route, every entrance. If only she could move, if only she could turn into her weapon form. _Black Star would be so disappointed._

He would, Tsubaki knows. How could she be the weapon of a god is she let goons like those two take her down, if she could give up this easily?

_It's for the better._ She won't have to face him, if they ever find her (why haven't they _found her?)_; she won't have to see his face when he takes in her pitiful form.

She thinks back to her fight with her brother. How he had told her the camellia blossom really did have a scent. Tsubaki thinks he must have been wrong, because she is dying, and this is not the death of a weapon handled by a superior being, by a god.

This is falling silently and tragically.

"_—she is—"_

_"Tsubaki…believe this…dead—"_

_"—heal her!"_

_"You're okay,"_ a calm voice tells her, and she is struck by how odd it is. Her eyes open just the slightest bit, and something hot and wet drips onto her face. She sees blue and little else beyond that, and then, just as she is closing her eyes once more, she sees a soft pink glow.

"You're fine."

* * *

She becomes aware of her surroundings without opening her eyes. The soft beeps of machinery, and the smell of antiseptic in the air tells her she is in a hospital. The fact that though her eyes are shut, there is no brightness at all, tells her that it's either dark in her room, or night.

Slowly, she opens her eyes enough to look around. She is in a familiar room at Shibusen, a hospital room that Black Star has frequented many times before. Her nose is bandaged and feeling much better. She has an IV in her hand, and, on closer inspection, she can see bandages down the front of her hospital gown. The ones covering the brand are stained a light brown.

The sight turns her stomach, but she swallows it down and leans back against her pillows, letting the cool air of her hospital room flow around her.

"Are you okay?"

Her heart lunges into her throat for a minute until she recognizes the voice, and then she feels foolish. Of course it was only Black Star. Tsubaki turns her head to look at him, keeping her face blank.

She knows if she smiles, or says anything she will break down, and the last thing she needs him to see after…after finding her like that (because thinking back, it was his voice telling her she was fine, and his body she was held against as she was brought back home). So she nods, and checks over what little of him she can see.

He's got a blanket over his shoulders, and there is a steaming cup on the table next to her bed. Tsubaki is surprised she hadn't noticed him before.

He isn't injured, as far as she can tell. Thank Shinigami.

What she _does_ see is how exhausted he looks. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his posture is slumped more than usual.

"Tsubaki," he asks again, starling her out of her thoughts. She meets his eyes for a moment, before redirecting her gaze back to his cheeks. "Are you _okay?"_

_Yes,_ she wants to say with a smile. _Yes, I'm fine. You should go home and get some sleep, you look awful._

Instead, with a tremor in her voice she says, "Fine," and gives him what must look like a grimace. He opens his mouth to say something-

And then, "Do you know what they did to me?"

Black Star's mouth shuts with a click, and he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes tight, turning away from her. He must, she knows, and she doesn't want to hurt him, not at all. She would die before she would willingly hurt him, but he's asking stupid questions, asking if she's okay when she is so clearly _not._

"I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse, so unlike him. "I'm sorry for not being fast enough, for letting them do that to you." She can hear his teeth grinding together, and can see the moisture in his eyes, and Tsubaki starts to cry because she is too. Sorry for being caught, sorry for making him worry, but more than that she's _angry; _angry that those men would defile the Star Clan's crest this way, angry that he hadn't found her sooner; angry at herself for being stupid and immature.

He must know what she's about to say next because his eyes snap to hers, bright and heartbroken and so _angry,_ "Don't apologize, Tsubaki. Don't you _dare_! It's my job as a meister to make sure you're safe, to take care of my partner and I—"

He presses his face into the sheets by her hip and trembles, arms tense and shoulder up around his ears. "It should have been me. They hurt you to get to _me._ They broke into the house a few days after you disappeared—Maka had made me go home and get some rest and—and when they told me they took you I—I snapped._"_

She feels sick just thinking about what those men would have done to him. Tsubaki lifts her hand and runs her fingers into his hair, keeping her gaze off the bandages around her wrists where she'd torn the skin to try and get out of her bonds. "I… Black Star, look at me."

It takes a few moments for him to stop shaking, and then a bit longer after he sits up to meet her eyes, but he does eventually. She gives him a small smile, wincing a bit because it hurts her nose. "I will be okay, I promise."

"You should have to promise that. It shouldn't have happened to begin with, and all because I was _sick—"_

Her hand, still wound in the blue locks, tugs hard, and Black Star stops talking. "If I can't take a little pain, then I'm not worthy enough to be your weapon, am I?"

He turns away from her again, and she drops her hand from his head. When he speaks, it's like he has something in his throat, and Tsubaki's heart breaks. "It won't happen again, I swear."

"I know," Tsubaki breathes, tears stinging her eyes again, but she's had enough crying the last few days to last a lifetime. "I know. Thank you for saving me."

Black Star grabs her hand loosely, eyes never wavering as he looks at her. "Thank you for still being here, Tsubaki."

* * *

"Can I touch it?" Black Star asks, breath fanning across her face.

Sharing a bed with him has long stopped being a problem. They are adults now, responsible even (though Maka might argue that Black Star still has a long way to go), and the two of them know what they are doing. But as soon as he says this, she wants to shrink away, wants to go and sleep on the couch. It's only their hands entwined between them that keeps her there, and slowly she meets his eyes.

"Why?" She murmurs. Their noses are touching, lips close enough to kiss if he or she moved an inch or two closer, and it's grounding. It's been months since she'd been kidnapped and she feels safe now, finally. It had been a long recovery period for the both of them, and they had only recently started having sex again, but he was always careful not to stare too long at the brand or touch it so she wonders why now of all times he decides he wants to touch it.

He shifts onto his elbows, letting go of her hand. His eyes bore into hers, "I don't really know…" He looks sheepish, but doesn't break the hold his eyes have on her. If anything, the look gets more intense. "If you don't want me to, that's fine."

Swallowing, Tsubaki grabs his hand, giving him a moment to adjust to leaning on only one elbow, and then brings his hand to the bottom of her shirt, leaving it resting against her hip. Her shirt had ridden up, and his calloused palm feels nice against the skin there. "Go ahead."

Carefully, Black Star trails his hand up under her nightshirt, hand moving across her skin, over tiny scars and bigger ones, over her breast. He stops there for a moment, eyes wide, then moves his hand up a bit more, fingers resting on the ruined skin.

He lets out a shaking breath, and lowers his head to hers, resting their foreheads together. Tsubaki's heart beats quickly and she blinks rapidly against his closed eyes, then leans forward and connects their mouths.

They resonate then, because when she opens her eyes next she is standing above a softly moving surface and Black Star is pressed against her from thighs to chest. He is taller than her now, if only by a few inches, and the way he is looking at her makes her feel a foot tall. His hand is still pressed to her skin, and she notes absently that they are in their night wear.

"I looked for you," he swears, voice sturdy and eyes unwavering.

The water ripples around her as she attempts to shift closer, though how the two of them could be closer, sharing a _soul_ already, she has no idea. "I know," she assures him, and it seems like a weight is lifted off his shoulders then. He kisses her roughly, free hand curling in her hair, and if there is moisture on the both of their faces, she doesn't say anything.


End file.
